


Daily Gab

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bisexuality, Brotherly Love, Bullying, Coming Out, First boyfriend, Gay, Gen, Gossip, M/M, Serious Discussions, Tabloids, anxiousness, implied Dick/Jason, implied Dick/Wally - Freeform, implied Tim/Conner, implied Tim/Stephanie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-11-22 08:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20871104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Damian swallowed against the bile in his throat and carefully took in his next breath, walking himself through the steps of emotional calm. Pretend this was only torture. Pretend it was only a gunshot wound. Pretend it wasonlyhis body in pain and not his heart and his mind. Remove himself from the situation and take a few steps backwards from the reality of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For DCU-bang 5k mini-bang - Words 5776  
Beta: kate1zena

Damian sighed, hitching his backpack further up on one shoulder, annoyance eating through his veins as he trudged along the school corridor. He hated it here. Hated going to such an ordinary school. Hated being around so many sick children day in and day out. It never seemed to fail: every class had at least one person who was sick in some manner. Coughing, sneezing, holding their stomach and looking green, or asking to go to the restroom every five minutes. Damian always came away feeling like he needed to invest in stock for whatever the newest antibacterial sanitizer on the market was. Today he could hear the cacophony of sneezes that signaled not only the change in season but probably the beginnings of the next cycle of school colds. 

He snaked around a group of giggling teens, flattened himself to a bank of lockers to scooch past three upperclassmen, and continued down the hallway toward his own locker, mentally ticking off the books he needed to leave there and the ones he required adding to his bag for the first round of classes. He had a paper due in earth sciences he needed to pull out of his binder from when he'd written it during free period the day it was assigned and he should probably grab at least one extra pencil for the girl in third period who seemed to eternally be without a writing implement. Damian was never sure if it was poor planning or a need-based thing. He didn't ask, he simply brought a spare.

Sighing, he moved around the last group of people standing far too close to his locker for his liking and came to an abrupt halt, his heart in his throat. Taped to his locker was today's Daily Gab; Gotham's last remaining rag mag. While the tabloid itself was a regular source of annoyance in the Wayne family's lives, this one went far beyond that. The entire front cover was bordered in bright red and the splash of white words stood out against the darkness of the nearly full-page photo beneath it. 

_Wayne Kid... Gay?_

It wasn't even that part that stopped him dead. Rather it was the photo below it. It was very clearly a photograph of him with a shadowy figure of what was pretty clearly a guy. There was no mistaking what was going on; teenage hormones gone too far in a far too public place. He briefly closed his eyes, the image of the night flashing behind his eyelids.

His hands holding Jon close, fingers curling around his hips and holding him close as he guided them three steps back into an alcove – the only thing keeping Jon a secret from the world in that photograph. They'd kissed for what had felt like hours, the quiet night surrounding them, crickets and what had become the lulling sounds of Gotham's night swelling around them. Damian hadn't noticed a thing other than Jon in those moments: a rare time in which he let his guard down and simply existed. A rare time in which he'd done something he clearly shouldn't have.

Anguish flared up inside him and he reached out, ripping the tabloid from the front of his locker and quickly opening the lock, yanking open the door and unzipping his bag, jamming the tabloid in and quickly switching out the books, binders, and supplies he needed to before slamming it shut, relocking it, and storming down the hallway. No one stopped him. No one _dared_, though he could feel their eyes on him. They'd all seen it, seen whoever put it up there, and seen his private life smeared over the goddamned news like he didn't _deserve_ privacy.

He barely made it to class before the bell rang, slipping into his seat as it rang. He kept his focus on his desk and his bag, carefully removing his books and binder, his pencil and eraser and forced himself to shove it all down. Compartmentalize. This was what Bruce told him he had to do. Hold it in, keep it there, never ever let it swell up inside him and take over when his reactions mattered. 

Slowly his shoulders straightened and his face returned to his usual bored demeanor. He took notes as he always did and offered his usual array of answers when the others did not raise their hands. He never needed the notes, but teachers had begun to try to fail him for not taking them after his first few months and he understood this, too, was part of the mask he had to wear.

First period ended without incident and Damian braved the hallways with his gaze laser-focused on his next destination, ignoring the nudges one student would give another or the whispers that seemed to include his name more often than usual. He sat in his seat near the back of the class in second period and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore the students who passed around a copy of the tabloid when the teacher wasn't looking. No matter how hard he tried to write down the teacher's lecture word-for-word, all he could hear were the student's whispers. 

_He's gay?_

_Yeah, I heard he's with one of his friends. You know, heh, 'friends'_.

_Gross._

The more he heard, the more his stomach churned. The longer he listened to their words, the more his vision narrowed and his world began to spin. He closed his eyes and held his pencil away from his paper, careful not to cause a scene by breaking it. His hand shook just the slightest amount, probably not nearly enough for anyone who wasn't trained to tell. He swallowed against the bile in his throat and carefully took in his next breath, walking himself through the steps of emotional calm. Pretend this was only torture. Pretend it was only a gunshot wound. Pretend it was _only_ his body in pain and not his heart and his mind. Remove himself from the situation and take a few steps backwards from the reality of it. 

His heart rate slowed to something considered normal and his world stopped feeling like it was spinning. Opening his eyes, he focused on the teacher and continued his notes with a neat line across the paper telling him he'd missed some notes there and needed to fill them in logically later. 

He kept his focus narrowed on the chalkboard and the teacher's desk, allowing nothing further to hedge into his focus for the remainder of the period. 

Third period arrived and Damian sat down in his usual seat, waited until the girl next to him sighed and he took a deep breath, praying for no rejection, and held out his spare pencil. He felt her take it, heard her soft, "Thank you," and felt some of the tension in his body ease. To at least one person in the world he was still exactly the same as he'd been hours ago. Either she didn't know or she didn't care. Damian hoped for the second one. 

He listened to the scratch of their pencils against paper for the duration of the class, thanked everything for the relative silence that was always third period. He took the pencil back as he always did when she offered it, tucked it back into his backpack, continuing with his day.

Normally he would have spent lunch with Jon, but today he ducked into an empty classroom along the way and sat near the door, quickly eating his lunch and then diligently working his way through his homework from the first three periods of the day and then opening the book he'd chosen for English class, reading until the bell sounded to warn them they had five minutes to get to fourth period.

Standing up, he tucked his papers back in and neatly exited into the flow of students, unnoticed in his escape from the classroom. Fifth period was worse than any of the others, half his class the gossiping type and most of the rest of them noisy and the teacher unable to tame it. Normally, Damian attempted to help her by asking questions, keeping the class on track, but today he sat there with his ears burning, every other comment from the gaggle of gossiping children about him and his mystery boyfriend. The gossip had become less that he was gay and more about how he'd broken some girl's heart – he had no idea who Susan was, but they seemed to think he did – and how it was unfair that all the stoic ones were always gay. The guys who talked were all about how strange it would be next year if they had PE with him and what his family must think. Damian wanted to disappear into the floor, wished time would go faster or the world would suddenly start shaking and he'd have to evacuate with everyone else and then just _poof_, he'd be gone.

By the time the end of the day came, Damian all but bolted for the empty field where Alfred picked him up in the helicopter. The instant it arrived, he climbed on board and stuffed his bag between his feet, buckling in and putting on his best pissed off face, hoping it would discourage Jon from asking too many questions when he arrived. He prayed to anyone that would listen that somehow Jon still hadn't heard. Maybe it hadn't passed down to his grade or maybe he hadn't overheard. Anything, really.

Jon climbed on board, his usual cheerful self, and settled next to him, buckling in and then they were in the air. Jon put on his headset and motioned for Damian to do the same, but Damian just shook his head, crossed his arms tighter over his chest, and tried to keep breathing. 

They dropped Jon off at the Kent farm and Damian did allow himself to accept the brief hug Jon paused to offer him, something aching deep inside him to hold on longer than he let himself. Instead, he ignored the urge, let Jon go earlier than he usually would have and leaned back in his seat, waiting on Jon to get off and the helicopter to get airborne again. 

The instant the helicopter landed, Damian slid off the seat, grabbed his bag, and bee-lined for the house, up the stairs, and into his room. Shutting the door behind himself, he kicked off his shoes, got rid of the horrible tie he hated so very much, and dug the stupid tabloid out of his bag.

Pulling himself up onto his bed, he stared down at the cover, at the somewhat fuzzy photo of himself and Jon gracing the entire front cover. He allowed his fingertips to linger over Jon's shadowy figure, over the lines of the boy he so desperately wanted to be his boyfriend, before he flipped open the cover and leafed through to page five, taking in the same headline and the half-page article beneath with a slightly clearer version of the photograph on the cover, if only because the scale was better.

He swallowed, skimming the article, the whole thing gossip trash about how it was likely this wasn't the first Wayne boy to turn out with _other_ predilections, though proof had never been obtained for the rumors surrounding Timothy Drake-Wayne's supposed affair with a young man from Metropolis while he was supposedly dating a young Gothamite. 

Damian closed the magazine and slowly curled his fist around the paper, closing his eyes and fighting against every emotion that threatened to swallow him whole. He had to stop freaking out and instead start trying to navigate this PR nightmare. He was certain his father was about to be dragged into it and he needed to get ahead of the curve on this one. He slowly hunched over, his elbows on his knees as he thought it through. 

First and foremost, he needed to figure out if they had any further proof. He would need access to their database and preferably the computer of the author and photographer to see if the photo really had been that bad or if they were about to follow it up with something in a Metropolis rag about Jon. He doubted it, even with his mother being Lois Lane, it was hard to imagine anyone would care that much about her son's goings on the way they seemed to care about the Waynes. He supposed it came with the money and in a way he was thankful Jon had squeaked out of this by any means, even that one.

He gripped the paper harder, gritting his teeth as he debated how he'd address the world about it. He'd have to own up to it, suck it up and just tell the whole world. Or maybe they could play it like he'd been the bad boy; on something and making a mistake – as long as on one knew Jon was the other person, it would be okay. If they knew it was Jon, there was no way he was calling him a mistake. Not now, not ever. If there was even a half-second chance they'd find out, he would never ever want to have spoken those words. He took a breath and discarded that idea. 

Experimenting? Kids did that, right? He already knew the answer: not at his age they didn't. He sighed, closing his eyes and wincing as his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. A few seconds and it stopped and Damian went back to imagining the possible outcomes of that scenario. If it got back that he was experimenting and Jon's family found out it was Jon, he was certain it would be a scene, despite the truth of his and Jon's existence with one another. Which settled it, really. There could be no lying, no half-truths or he'd chance breaking Jon in the process and that just wasn't a risk he was willing to take. 

That left him with the bold truth. That he _was_ gay and yes, he was sort of seeing someone and no, he didn't want to share any further information, thank you very fucking much. He'd also ask them to stop speculating about his family and that if they wanted to know then they could damn well ask said family members instead of being a piece of shit trash rag and speculating. 

His phone vibrated several times in quick succession, indicating texts and Damian made a face, unable to face whatever was happening there just yet. He'd ignored it all day, he could damn well keep ignoring it now that he was home, too. He unfurled the magazine again and stared down at the cover, a white hot sort of anger burning in his gut. This had been _his_ private moment. His time with Jon in the dark and in the middle of downtown where no one was supposed to care. He'd even been so careful as to steer them off to this alcove instead of pressing Jon to the wall like he'd wanted to. He'd been... foolish. Foolish to think a Wayne could go unnoticed. Foolish to think no one would care. Foolish to think he was allowed to keep his secrets until _he_ was ready to tell them.

His phone began to vibrate with an incoming call again and Damian yanked it out of his pocket, and glanced at the screen. Grayson. His heart launched itself into his throat and he clicked ignore and thumbed to see the other notifications. The other missed call was from Dick and the texts were from Jon. He opened the text message app and did a quick scroll of Jon's texts.

_ Hey Dami, you there?_

_Guess you're busy still. I just wanted to say, whatever's bugging you, if you wanna talk, I'm here. As usual._

The last text was a black heart emoji and Damian stared at it, anguish in his heart. Jon was so good to him. So good and Damian had damn near pushed him away today over the exact thing that could break them if he wasn't careful. He blinked a few times and opened a new text to Dick, starting to type out that he'd call him later and he was busy. Later being whenever he felt reasonably able to cope. Later _not_ being a near sort of time.

His phone lit up with an incoming phone call again and Damian growled, thumbing it on and snarling, "What? I'm busy."

There was a beat of silence from Dick's side of the line and then a quiet. "I know and I'm sorry, but I thought you'd want a head's up. I'm almost to the manor and I really need to talk to you."

Damian sighed, dread pooling in his stomach again. He closed his eyes and tried not to let it get to him. Dick knew. Dick _knew_. And Dick was coming to talk to him, not to yell, not _not_ talking to him. It was going to be okay. Dick was giving him time to gather himself and then he was going to be here _for_ Damian. He'd be a fool to think anything differently about Grayson. 

"Yeah... I'm here," he murmured. "See you soon." Disconnecting the call, he pushed the phone back in his pocket and leaned over again, forearms on his thighs. It was going to be okay. Everything would be perfectly fine.

  
By the lovely fancydragonqueendraws on Tumblr ♥


	2. Chapter 2

Damian looked up when he heard a soft knock on his door, swallowing against the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. A numb sort of tingling curled around his lower legs and he rubbed his fingers over his slacks, carefully taking in a deep breath. 

"Come in."

The door opened and Dick stepped inside, gently closing the solid oak door behind him. A few steps carried him to Damian's bedside and his eyes settled upon the paper Damian still clutched in one hand. 

"You saw then."

Damian let his shoulders sag, letting Dick see the anguish of the day in the way he nodded and looked away. The bed dipped beside him and Dick's hand came to rest just above his knee, palm warm even through his clothing. 

"I take it there's some truth to the implication then." Not a question so much as a statement Damian knew he was free to either reply to or ignore as he saw fit. He closed his eyes and once again nodded, his voice feeling like lead in his throat.

Dick rubbed his knee, let go, and then curled a protective arm around his shoulders, hauling him in until he was tucked against his side. "They took your voice away. Your power of autonomy and your ability say these things when _you_ wanted and that's hardly fair." Dick took in a deep breath, sighing it back out and squeezing Damian's shoulder. "But that doesn't have to mean this has to be a bad thing all the way around."

Damian snorted. He couldn't help it. Leave it to Dick to try to be positive after all the things he'd heard today. 

"Bullshit,” he whispered, shaking his head.

"No. Not _bullshit_. Hear me out on this one." Dick shifted his weight, leaning his lanky form against Damian, forcing him to tighten his core muscles to hold them both in the same position. "So they decided they'd wave your secret around like the golden fucking ticket or something. Yeah, that's shitty, I get that. I also get that you probably got shit for it all day today or at least heard a million people making their opinions hella loud. But you know what? The one percent is the loudest most belligerent group of fuckheads you'll ever meet. But they're just _that_. The one percent. The other ninety nine percent are good, decent human beings who said nothing at all because it's not their damn business. Not because they didn't see it or hear it, but because they get it. They wouldn't want their shit aired to the world either, so they do the right thing and stay quiet. No comments, no attention drawn, let the gossip die due to lack of propagation."

Dick separated from him and leaned one hand on Damian's knee, leaning forward until he could peer at his face. Damian reluctantly met his eyes. "Own this shit, bro. Think about it. Would you rather go around assuming everyone's judging you and feeling horrid for what's just happened? Or would you rather walk in there tomorrow, head held high, and whenever someone starts saying something about it, just drop the truth bomb on them? You'd get to reply with, "Yes, I am, so what'd you want to know about it?" I mean, yeah, some people are gonna ask some dumb shit questions, probably about who you've slept with, who's the _girl_ – because people are ignorant fucks – and bullshit like that. But it's gonna peter out and soon enough it won't be a topic anymore because something else will come up and you won't be backing down from them."

Damian considered it, considered how life would be like walking in to school tomorrow with a give-no-fucks attitude again. It would fit with his usual M.O. and honestly he was all about keeping that face what it was. He could only cave so much. He squared his shoulders and told himself to be strong. Stronger than he was being right then.

"Hey," Dick's fingertips gently danced over the tips of Damian's spiked hair. "Don't shut down on me. You're allowed to _feel_. Allowed to be upset and distraught and _angry_. Hell, I'm angry for you. It's fucked up that they decided to run this and without comment or consent from you at all. This trash rag is known for that shit and it pisses me off. It would have pissed me off if they'd outed me and from the sound of it, they're trying to resurrect Tim's _dead_ boyfriend to drag them through the mud in the same breath. Talk about wanting to see red. I do. I _am_."

Something sucked at the hollow space Damian had been forming inside himself, pulled and tugged and raged until it filled back up with the endless well that was his earlier anguish. He tucked his arms over his chest, crossed them hard against himself and gritted his teeth in some effort not to cry. He refocused on Dick's words instead, ground his teeth together until he finally got out, "Outed you?"

Dick blinked at him, confusion playing over his features. "Yeah. Like if they'd told the whole fucking world that I'm bi, I'd be fuckin' livid."

"You're... I mean... are you?" Damian's arms loosened, his utter loss of the situation refocusing his mind for the time being. 

Dick hiked an eyebrow up and then huffed out a laugh. "Holy _shit_, how the hell did you not know? I'm not exactly subtle about it."

"I... you... I mean, you didn't _say_ it." Damian puffed up a little, his defensiveness prickling at his skin.

Dick tipped his head back, chuckled and shook his head. "Like, fuck, dude. I mean, was it not clear when I was lying all over Wally? Not to mention Jason?!" 

Damian choked on that. Dick had... had been _with_ Jason? Something hot and needy flared inside him at that and he shut it down harder than he'd ever shut anything down in his entire life. He could _not_ think about that with Dick mere inches from him. Later... later he'd think on it all he wanted. Later. _Alone_.

He let his hands fall to his own knees, rubbed and shrugged. "I do not make a habit of watching what you're doing."

"I guess that's fair. I mean, I don't watch you either, so..." Dick gave him a lopsided smile. "Whatever. Not the point. So... do I get to be curious as your brother or do I get to shut the hell up and butt out?"

Damian considered Dick for a moment, sniffed, and muttered, "Ask. Two questions, that's it."

"Who was it?"

Damian narrowed his eyes at Dick, finally opened his phone and pointed at his wallpaper: a photo of him and Jon goofing off, a stupid selfie Jon had made them take and Damian had pretended to hate. He watched Dick's face morph into something magnificent, his eyes glittering and his grin a mile wide. 

"Oh man. Excellent choice. He's amazing. I mean it." Dick reached for Damian again, pulling him in for a hug and this time Damian let himself loop an arm around Dick's waist, leaning into his touch with some amount of relief. "So are you together-together or just kinda... feeling your way through it?"

Damian bit his lower lip and opened a text to Dick, typed out _I want it to be more, but I haven't asked yet. I guess I should now. I can't stand the thought of losing him._ He held the phone out to Dick for him to read it and watched the warmth of the smile that made its way onto his lips and then Dick nuzzled his hair, just staying there and breathing for a moment. "Do it. I give it more than ninety nine percent the answer is yes."

Damian's heart fluttered in his chest and he took in a deep breath. He'd ask him the all-important question first and only after he got his answer would he show him the paper. Nothing was going to risk Jon. Not this dumb tabloid and not his own stupidity. 

Pulling back from Dick, Damian turned to rest one leg on the bed, stared down at his phone and carefully erased the message, pulling up Jon's contact and typing out: _I'd like to talk now. Come over?_ He didn't hit send just yet, instead showed Dick and waited patiently as he pulled himself up and ran a hand gently over the spikes of Damian's hair. "Keep me in the loop or I'll fall all over myself trying to find out." He gave him a cheeky little smile and then he was gone.

Damian took a breath, hit send, and gripped his phone more than a little too hard as he waited on Jon's appearance.


	3. Chapter 3

Damian didn't have to wait long at all. Jon was there in fewer than five minutes. There, hovering at his window, his eyes warm and his smile warmer still. As always, something inside Damian shifted, melted, eased until he was left without the utter anguish the tabloid had caused. It was just something about being near Jon that left him entirely unable to be wound up anymore. 

Jon was Damian's release: always had been and Damian hoped, always would be.

He unlatched the window, stepping back and letting Jon in, watching him for any signs that he already knew or that he'd been listening in to his and Grayson's conversation. Jon just gave him his usual easy smile and plopped down on the window seat, shoving the window mostly closed behind him. Damian sank down beside him, carefully curled his fingers over the edge of the cushion and took a steadying breath. He could do this. He could take any answer he got.

The issue wasn't really asking; it was knowing _how_ to ask. Would you be my boyfriend had always seemed far too brusque for such a question. Hinting around it with words such as “Are we dating?” seemed shallow and almost created an air that this wasn't as serious as it was for Damian, which was something he desperately wanted to avoid if possible.

He took in a deep breath and instead offered, "I want to be with you and _only_ you. What I desire most is... commitment." He tried the word on this tongue, found it satisfied a great many things inside him and he forged ahead on this new, brave path. "Nothing would please me more than to have you by my side in a relationship."

Jon's warm hand slid over his, caressed and then his fingers were twining with Damian's own. "Why, Damian Wayne, are you asking me to go steady with you?" Jon sounded both amused and pleased and when Damian glanced at him, he could see the way his eyes glittered, the pleasure dancing behind them, and he only nodded, scarcely able to breathe in that moment. 

Jon leaned in, his lips a bare breath away, and then they were kissing – gentle and hungry, easy and yet filled with so many pent up emotions and needs – and Damian suddenly understood what it meant to drown without water, to die without death. His heart burst and reformed and his breath caught and then pulled. Their kiss deepened until Damian began to feel the very same burn of arousal he'd felt that night in the alcove and it reminded him of the other reason Jon was here. 

They parted, eyelids closed, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same air breath-for-breath. Damian's toes curled as he listened to Jon's breathing, felt the warmth of his hands, the heat of his body so close. "The Daily Gab outed me today. They have a photo... of us."

Jon shifted back slightly, just enough to make Damian open his eyes. He watched him work his teeth over his lower lip and took in the small nod Jon gave before he released a huge sigh. "Crappy thing to do." He tipped his head, hesitated. "Doesn't matter to me. I already told my parents anyway." Jon waved his free hand in the air and huffed out a little breath of a laugh. "It was super anti-climactic. Dad just said he knew and Mom told me if I needed anything to just ask. I always assumed it would be this huge to-do, with all kinds of tears and heart-pounding drama. I mean, not that I thought Mom and Dad wouldn't support me, but I didn't think they'd already know."

Damian considered the idea of just letting his whole family know before they all saw the tabloid. Gathering them all up and making some big announcement and then tossing the stupid rag mag on the counter and walking away. He then considered the easier way not to see disappointment on anyone's face if that was how the chips would fall. 

He dug his phone out of his pocket and opened a text, carefully adding people to it until his entire family and a few friends were in it. He ensured the settings were on to separate the messages rather than giving everyone one big text with all the others added. 

_I thought you should hear it from me if you haven't already seen it in the Daily Gab. I'm gay and Jon is my boyfriend. You all get two questions and no more. Make them count._

He tipped the phone toward Jon, saw him smile and hit send before he could double-guess himself. Tossing the phone on the cushion between them, Damian sighed, closing his eyes and just feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. Jon was his. He was Jon's. The world knew and his private circle of people that mattered knew now, too. 

Life was going to be alright. 

A quiet knock sounded at his door and Damian looked up, slightly wary, his hand tightening on Jon's. "Come in."

The door creaked open and Bruce stepped into the room, his phone in one hand, a copy of the paper in the other. He looked old. Older than Damian had found him looking in a long time. Fear hedged into his heart and his hand grasped at Jon's even tighter.

His father settled into Damian's desk chair and crossed one leg neatly over the other, smoothing his hand over the paper in front of him, shaking his head a little. He opened his mouth like he was going to speak, but Damian beat him to it.

"The photograph is real. I have already thought of ways to address the oncoming PR nightmare that will keep you out of it. I think it may be best for me to make a public statement, attesting to the validity of the article. It will point all questions back at me instead of you as I do not feel this is something that you should be bothered with. After all, it is unimportant in comparison to – "

Bruce held up his hand, silencing Damian mid-sentence. The look on his face was anything but what Damian had expected. He looked sad, upset but not in an anger sort of way. "This is not _unimportant_, nor is it some PR 'nightmare' either of us have to address. What they did is inexcusable and they will be hearing from our lawyer. All of that is beside the point. The only thing that matters right now is _you_."

Bruce folded the paper and slid it onto the desk beside him, placing his phone on top of it. He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. "Are you okay?"

Damian blinked at him, startled and uncertain by this version of his father he so rarely saw. Jon's fingers squeezed his and he slowly relaxed, tension draining from his shoulders as he moved imperceptibly closer to Jon. "Not yet. I will be."

"Even time does not heal all wounds. I'm here for you; for whatever you need." 

Damian swallowed, studying Bruce's face and finally nodding. 

"I feel like I need to be blunt about this, so I will be. Your sexuality changes nothing for me. I love you just the same." His eyes flicked to Jon, the smallest of smiles twitching at his lips. "Should I be making assumptions as to who the other person in the photograph was?"

Jon gave a little nod and Bruce's smile finally met his lips. "That's my boy. Making fine choices already. If either of you need anything all you ever have to do is ask."

Damian felt the rest of his trepidation ease away. It didn't matter what his mother or grandfather thought. He had his father on his side, had Grayson and probably Jon's parents on his side, too. He would weather this and he would hold his head up high while he did it.

Bruce stood to leave and Damian tucked himself closer against Jon's side as he watched his father go. He was loved and cared for and already the key pieces of family in his life supported him. He'd be okay.

_He and Jon would be okay_.


End file.
